


Together

by booksaremyreality



Series: Teen Wolf/Vampire Diaries Crossover [1]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sadness, Suicide Attempt, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:11:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksaremyreality/pseuds/booksaremyreality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' father dies. Damon is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this story, Stefan is with Elena and Damon is (obviously) with Stiles. Yes I got sort of lazy so description of the panic attack might not be 100% accurate. sorry

_Why the fuck does AP chem have to be so damn hard?_ Stiles thought while working on a particularly touch lab report. The phone rang, “Dad!” he called out. “Phone’s ringing!” Then he remembered that his dad had switched to the night shift to cover for a friend of his whose wife was going to have a baby. He sighed debating whether or not to get up from the comfortable fortress he had made on his bed from blankets or pillows, deciding that it probably wasn’t important and waited for the phone to stop ringing. Not even a minute later the phone began ringing again. Stiles groaned and forced himself out of bed gently tossing his laptop to the side. 

 

“Hello?” He growled, hoping that whoever was on the other line could here his annoyance. 

 

“Yes, is this the residence of Sheriff John Stilinski?” That caught Stiles attention. 

 

“Yeah.” He said cautiously. “But he’s not in right now.” 

 

“Are you his son?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m so sorry, but your father’s been killed.” The phone slipped from his grip, bouncing with a muffled thump on the rug. All the air left his lungs, like someone had punched him in the stomach. He couldn’t breath, fuck he couldn’t breath. His dad, dead. It must be some sort of mistake. His dad _can’t_ be dead. Not after all Stiles has done to keep him alive. 

 

Stiles’ heart was pounding in his throat and he felt the beginnings of a panic attack coming on but was powerless to stop it. His hands were shaking and it occurred to him that there was still someone on the line. He bent down slowly to pick up the phone, the person on the other side was calling his name. 

 

“Stiles? Are you still there? Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes, I’m still here.” He said, voice ragged and hoarse. 

 

“Like I was saying, we’re pretty sure it’s him but we’re going to need you to come down to the station and identify the body. Just to make sure.” The person on the other line said with a professional like detachment. 

 

“Okay.” Stiles said shortly, that hung up, flinging the phone against the wall and watching it shatter into little electronic pieces. He crouched down, tucking his face into his knees and his shoulders began to shake as great heaving sobs racked his body. 

 

He needed to call somebody, but who? Scott was probably with Allison and he didn’t want to bother him. Derek was ... well he didn’t know where Derek was. He wasn’t friendly enough with any other members of the pack to call them and he wouldn’t want them to see him like this, weak and trembling like a child. Damon. Stiles decided. He would call Damon. 

 

It took him a while to dial his number, seeing has his hands were still shaking badly. Luckily Damon picked up after the first ring. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Damon.” Stiles whispered. 

 

“Stiles is that you?” 

 

“I need you. _Please._ ” 

 

“ _Where are you? Are you in trouble?_ ” 

 

“I can’t do this without him, Damon. I can’t.” Stiles cried, yanking at his hair by the roots. 

 

“Without _who_ Stiles?”

 

“My dad! They’re saying he’s dead, Damon.” Stiles heard a sharp intake of breath on the line and then silence.

 

“Okay, Stiles, okay. I’ll be there soon, just ... just don’t go anywhere. Don’t do anything stupid. Stay on the phone with me, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Stiles sniffed, chin wobbling. “Okay.” Stiles stayed on the line but didn’t talk, how could he? It didn’t matter. All that Damon needed was to hear his breath. 

 

Stiles felt lightheaded and his ears were ringing. He didn’t know why. In what felt like an eternity later but was probably only 10 minutes, Damon was climbing through the window. 

 

“You could use the front door, asshole.” Stiles voice sounded strange to his own ears. 

 

“This is faster.” Damon crouched down in front of him, tutting softly and pulling the phone gently out of Stiles tight grip. He pulled Stiles shaking form towards his, tucking his face into his shoulder. Stiles began sobbing again, unable to help himself. 

 

He was all alone. 

 

Sometime later Stiles pulled back to look up at Damon’s face. 

 

“I have to go down to the station and--and identify his ...” Stiles trailed off. Damon frowned. 

 

“Does it have to be you?” 

 

“Yes, I’m the only family he had.” He nodded and pulled Stiles to stand, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tucking him into his side. 

 

“Where are your keys?” Stiles handed Damon his keys and climbed into the passenger side of his jeep, numb. Stiles began to lose track of time. Suddenly they were pulling up to the station. Stiles also didn’t hear Damon calling his name until he was unbuckling his seatbelt to pull him out of the car. 

 

“Come on, Stiles, I know you can walk.” He was right, Stiles _could_ walk. Mechanically, he put one foot in front of the other, following where ever Damon pulled him. When they opened the doors, all the officers on duty shot Stiles sympathetic looks. The sheriff’s kid with no one left. Parents dead, no other relatives. Stiles shivered, realizing that in his daze he forgot a coat. Damon rolled his eyes, but shucked his and wrapped it around Stiles’ shoulders. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Stiles’ so no one else would hear. 

 

“Do you know where to go?” Stiles nodded, more than familiar with the station. He walked to the elevator pressing the down button that lead to the basement where they kept the dead bodies. Another officer was in the elevator with them. 

 

“You the sheriff’s kid?” Stiles nodded, eyes forward. “I’m really sorry, he was a great guy.” Stiles said nothing. 

 

Of course the medical officer examining his dad was Ms. McCall. The minute she saw him she pulled him into a hug. “Oh sweetie.” She murmured. Stiles remained stiff. 

 

“Show me.” He said shortly. Damon hung back, staying near the door of the room. She nodded, tears in her eyes, and pulled back the zipper of the body bag to reveal his father’s body. He still looked alive, body not even in the first stages of rigor mortis. 

 

“It’s him.” He said shortly, and running out of there as fast as he could. 

 

Stiles breathing became labored as he leaned over the hood of the jeep, tears leaking out of his eyes. He knew Damon was right behind him, he could feel a cool hand making soothing circles on his back. 

 

“I need to get away from here.” Stiles said gravelly. Damon didn’t ask why, instead he asked where. “Anywhere. I just can’t stay here.” 

 

“Let’s go home and pack some things. I’ll schedule a flight for tonight.” Damon drove them back home, making all the arrangements for a flight to a place called Mystic Falls, Virginia. Stiles tuned him out. 

 

“Come.” Damon said, holding out a hand for him to exit the car. “Go get your things. Essentials only.” Stiles shuffled upstairs to his room, and stood in the middle, seemingly lost. Okay, essentials. That meant: his phone and phone charger, his wallet, his ... his dads wallet, his passport and some clothes (mainly underwear and a couple shirts). 

 

Damon grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “There’s a taxi waiting outside for us.” The airport was almost an hour away so Stiles decided to sleep, resting his head in Damon’s lap.

 

Big mistake.

 

Stiles jerked out of his sleep suddenly woken by a nightmare. He began panting and wheezing unable to catch his breath. He gripped Damon’s thigh so hard his knuckles turned white. Disoriented and confused, Stiles struggled not remembering where he was.

 

“Shh.” Damon mumbled. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” Damon pulled his shaking body against his chest, murmuring meaningless platitudes in his ear. The taxi driver gave them a strange look in the rearview mirror. 

* * *

The rest of the trip to Virginia was a blur. Stiles didn’t sleep on the plane ride even though it was a five hour flight. Stiles vaguely remembered pulling up to a huge, secluded house and being guided inside. Damon guided him to sit on the couch. Distantly Stiles heard, “What are we running an orphanage now? Damon who the hell is that?” 

 

“I’ve been ... seeing him.”

 

“Seeing him. What the hell does that mean.”

 

“I think you know what that means. Listen, Stefan, his dad just died, and his mom died when he was 10, he’s got no one left. Just let him stay here for a while.” 

 

“ ... Fine. But he’s your responsibility.” Damon sat down on the couch next to Stiles, pulling him into his side. Stiles pulled his legs up, curling into Damon, balling his arms and hands up like a child. 

 

“Do you want to talk?” 

 

“No. I ... I just want to sleep.” 

 

“Okay, Stiles, okay.” Damon pressed a kiss to Stiles temple and pulled him to stand, leading him into one of the many guest rooms. 

 

“Did you pack pajamas?” Somehow that was something that Stiles had forgotten. 

 

“No. I’m sorry.” Stiles said, throat clogging up again. His lip began to tremble and he couldn’t control his tears. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, no need to cry. You can just borrow some of mine.” Damon cupped Stiles’ face, rubbing his thumbs under his tired eyes, catching the tears on his thumb tips. Damon sat Stiles down on the edge of the bed and went to his room to grab a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He gave it to Stiles who changed quickly and crawled under the covers. He looked so small in the middle of the California king bed. 

 

“I have to go take care of some things, okay? I’ll be back. Just try to get some sleep.” Stiles looked like he wanted to say something but instead he just nodded and settled in to sleep. 

 

Damon went downstairs, going through Stiles’ bag to look for his phone.

 

“Stefan.” He called, knowing he could hear him. “I need you to watch Stiles.” 

 

“Whatever.” 

* * *

Stiles tried to sleep, he really did but all he could see was his father’s lifeless body, blank eyes staring back up at him and it made him want to puke. After half an hour of staring at the ceiling Stiles yanked the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He padded into the nearest bathroom. The medicine cabinet, Stiles was surprised to see, was fully stocked. He picked up something that looked like sleeping pills. He dumped a bunch into his hands, not thinking about what he was doing and tossed them all back with some water and went back to bed. 

 

* * *

Stefan was downstairs reading. He was also keeping tabs on Stiles. His heart rate seemed unusually slow and getting slower by the second. Stefan cursed and ran upstairs to the room that he was staying in. There he was in the middle of the bed, unmoving and unnaturally pale. Stefan felt for his pulse which was definitely slower that a human’s should be. 

 

“Fuck.” He ran into the bathroom and he saw the almost empty bottle of sleeping pills. He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, dialing Damon’s number. 

 

“Damon you better get the fuck over here, I think your boyfriend did something stupid.” Stefan snapped before hanging up and dragging Stiles into the bathroom. He slapped him a couple times to try and wake him up. Stiles did but just barely. Stefan forced his mouth open to stick two fingers down the back of his throat. Stiles moaned sluggishly then choked as the bile rose in his throat. Stefan pulled him upwards and over the toilet where he gagged repeatedly, expelling all the toxins from his stomach. His ribs and stomach muscles contracted painfully as he vomited until there was nothing left. Even when his stomach was empty of all foods and pills he kept heaving, spiting bile and water. 

Stefan didn’t know what to do, simply holding him up so he wouldn’t fall over. He heard Damon’s footsteps as he ran up the stairs and flung the bathroom door open. He was greeted to a red-faced Stiles with tears streaming down his cheeks and snot running out of his nose. 

 

“Shit.” He cursed, pushing Stefan out of the way. He began to rub Stiles back using his other arm to keep him from slipping and hitting his head on the toilet seat. 

 

“Thanks, Stefan, you don’t have to stay.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to, Damon! I promise, I wasn’t trying to ...” Stiles sobbed. 

 

“I know, I know.” When Stiles seemed like he was finished, Damon sat him gently against the wall and wet a wash cloth to wipe down Stiles’ face. He held his jaw in his hand, turning it side to side to wipe down his ruddy cheeks. Stiles brushed his teeth and slumped back into the bed: he asked Damon to stay with him. 

 

“Of course.” He changed into pajamas of his own and, even though he didn’t sleep, climbed into bed with Stiles, wrapping his arms around him. 

 

“You’ll get through this Stiles. We’ll do it together, okay?” Damon whispered into his hair. 

 

“I love you.” Stiles sighed. Damon said nothing, simply kissed him on the lips and he knew that Damon loved him too. 

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
